The Ship Who Saved the Worlds

by Anne McCaffrey

  "Keff? I know you're awake." Carialle's voice came softly through his aural implant.

  "Just barely," he said sublingually. "Whasup?" He glanced down at Mirina.

  "I've checked her sleep pattern. She's in deep delta. Good morning. The rain stopped just before dawn. I've got a ship on extreme long-range sensors. I've sent a hail out on standard frequency. The cavalry's on its way!"

  "Hurrah," Keff said quietly, wishing he could cheer. "About time."

  "The Cridi want to get out and around for a while. They're rather bored with being cooped up, and I can't run the water-refresher if you're supposed to be alone."

  "Mmm," he said. "Tell them I'll go take a real shower, and they can bathe as long as they like."

  He edged himself out of the bunk carefully, lifting Mirina's head from his shoulder onto the pillow. He left the coverlet tucked around her where his arm had been. She let out a small sigh.

  "Probably hasn't felt this safe in ages," Keff said quietly to Carialle. He walked silently toward his bathroom. Carialle must condone his sympathy for Mirina. She was perfectly capable of making the humidity or temperature controls in his private quarters go squiffy out of pettiness, but the air was warm on his naked skin, and even the floor had been heated to a comfortable 18 degrees C.

  Keff passed up the sonic cleaner for the shower fixture. He fitted the standards into the depressions in the deck, snapped the extendable envelope out into a rectangular booth two meters high and a meter square, and twisted the water spigots on to full. Jets of water shot out of the metal disk at the top, hammering at the booth floor and sides. An answering rush of water across the corridor told him the Cridi had heard his cue. As soon as the water warmed up to a comfortable temperature, he climbed into the booth and sealed it around him. He stood under the shower for a good twenty-five minutes, until his fingers turned into pale prunes.

  "Are they finished, Cari?" Keff asked, as loudly as he dared. His voice sounded curiously dead in the heavy plastic tent.

  "They are," Carialle chuckled. "Narrow Leg said they wouldn't have had to do this in stages if you hadn't put their swimming pool in the storeroom."

  With a thankful sigh, Keff spun the controls off. He shouldered into his toweling robe and walked back into the sleeping room, rubbing his hair dry with a clean cloth. Mirina stirred and opened her eyes at the small sound. Her eyes crinkled as she grinned at him, embarrassed. She sat up, clasping the coverlet to her body.

  "Sorry. Have I slept too long?" she asked.

  "Not at all," Keff said. "I've just finished. The bath is yours."

  She stretched out her arms, throwing her head back with abandon. "Mmm! I haven't had a refreshing sleep like this in ages. Thank you. And, thank you for last evening." The wickedly coy look, through the eyelashes, returned just for a moment. "I was supposed to come and win concessions from you, but I think I gave up as much as I got."

  "My pleasure," Keff said, with a twinkle.

  "Thank you. I ought to watch my liquor consumption," Mirina said, seriously. "I shouldn't have talked so much."

  "Not at all," Keff said. "I understand. Truly, I do." Mirina gave him a skeptical, almost pitying look. He wished again he could tell her the truth, but Carialle was right. He must not blow their cover too soon, even for a fellow brawn in need.

  He extended a hand to help Mirina off the bunk, but she smiled a polite refusal, and dropped lightly onto the soles of her feet. She did accept his spare robe, and trailed off into the steamy, tiled bathroom with an easy, spacer's stride. Keff dressed, listening to her hum happily in the shower.

  Once they emerged into the main cabin, there were no signs of the Cridi at all, except that the indicator on the food synthesizer was a little lower than it had been the night before. Mirina didn't notice the discrepancy, but then, she'd had the lion's share of brandy and wine. Keff programmed her a nice breakfast, and poured himself a health shake with extra calcium and vitamin E to help chase away the dregs of a headache that loomed behind his eyes. For all her shamed protest, Mirina looked as if she was rather less worse for the wear than he was.

  "Mmm, what's that?" Mirina asked, putting down her coffee cup. She pointed at a light blinking on Carialle's imaginary console.

  "Communications," Carialle said in his ear.

  "Communications," Keff echoed, springing up. "The Lady!" He went to one of the real control boards, and punched a button. That one normally activated the lights in the cargo bay, but Mirina wouldn't know that. One of the screens blanked, then filled with the image of Carialle's Lady Fair. Keff blinked. She wore an up-to-date coiffure, and tunic set of gauzy blue fabric with flowing sleeves, plus plenty of sparkling jewelry. She looked expensive, impatient, and very efficient.

  "Keff? Is that you?" Carialle's voice asked impatiently.

  "Yes, ma'am," Keff said, speaking with his mouth close to the audio pickup just for effect.

  "My ship is in range of this planet, ETA two hours. I want a full report. What's this meeting supposed to be about?" Her eyes flicked past Keff to Mirina. "Who is that woman?"

  "She's, uh, she's a representative of the other group," Keff said. "The Melange. Mirina Don, er, Carialle."

  "Madam," Mirina said.

  "Greetings." The eyes returned to Keff. "I'll expect a full briefing in an hour. The meeting will commence when I make orbit. Do you understand?"

  "I do, ma'am," Keff said, humbly. The screen blanked. He turned to Mirina. She looked pleased.

  "I'll go tell Bisman," she said.

  Carialle had her suit-clad image smile at Bisman and his cronies as they stalked into the central cabin. The half-dozen human raiders shed oily, yellow-brown mud from their boots everywhere. She cast her eyes upward in disgust, and enjoyed the scowl on the leader's face as he slung himself into one of the crash couches.

  "Upscale meets bargain basement," she said to Keff over the aural link. "You'll have to tidy that after the meeting's over," she added out loud.

  "Yes, ma'am," Keff said, standing obsequiously beside the holographic chair in which her image seated itself. Carialle had set almost all her projective cameras over the end of the room where her painting apparatus usually stood. The rack, and all of her personal paintings, were stowed hastily in the small storeroom behind Keff's cabin. It left her image plenty of room to roam.

  "I am Carialle," she said, with a nod of her head. "Greetings, gentlemen, and madam." Carialle nodded to Mirina, clad in a similar shipsuit to the one she'd had on the night before. The ex-brawn seated herself beside her brother at the dining table clear across the cabin. The younger Don was a dark-haired, lanky young man who didn't seem to know what to do with his long arms and legs. Bisman wore a knee-length coat over an open-necked shirt and trousers tucked into his muddy boots. The garments were clean but worn, adding to the impression Mirina had given them of an organization too big for its budget. The only non-human was the young Thelerie, Sunset. "You are all welcome."

  "Say, wait a minute," Bisman said, turning his head to the right. He'd made himself comfortable, but something caught his eye. He propelled himself forward to wave a hand through Carialle's midsection. "She's a hologram!" he exclaimed, turning on Keff. "I thought we were meeting with the real thing!"

  "You're hearing my real voice," Carialle said, with a trace of haughty annoyance. "And seeing my face. I'm not about to make myself vulnerable to strangers. I'm sure you understand."

  "Not being vulnerable, yeah," Bisman said, sitting down again, but not so far back in the couch. He held up one hand and showed them a small commlink on his wrist. "I don't like tricks, either. I want you to know I'm in radio contact with my ship. If something happens, or if my communications are cut off, my people have orders to attack. We are well armed."

  Carialle also read the energy trace of a sidearm concealed under the flap of the coat the man wore. She accorded him another gracious nod. "I understand," she said. "We won't shield transmissions. Sounds like they have the third Core," she told Keff privately. "We'll ha
ve to get it away from them."

  "Yes, ma'am," Keff said, with a respectful bow.

  "Why are you here?" Bisman asked Thunderstorm, who sat on his haunches between the airlock and the corridor to the sleeping cabins.

  "I represent Thelerie," the Space Sayas said, very nervously. "As I have for many years."

  "This was going to be a discussion between our two organizations, wasn't it?" Bisman asked Carialle.

  "Of course, but this being makes a valid point," Carialle said, with a polite gesture toward Thunderstorm. "We are occupying his world, after all."

  "Okay," Bisman said, crossing his heels on the console. "He can stay."

  "Thank you," Carialle said, politely. She made a point of lifting the corner of her lip delicately at his dirty boots, and he grinned. "Shall we begin?"

  Keff bowed again. "Shall I serve refreshments?"

  "Go ahead. Thank you. Gentles?" Carialle manifested a glass in her image's hand. The visitors declined beverages, and Keff resumed his stand beside his "employer."

  "We're here to talk," Bisman said, impatiently. He tilted his head toward Keff. "Your drone here landed on a world we have an exclusive arrangement with."

  "Isn't it up to the inhabitants as to whom they do business with?" Carialle asked, with a lift of her eyebrows. "Thunderstorm, what do you say?"

  "I . . ." the Thelerie trembled violently and clattered his clawtips together. "I do not say anything just now."

  Bisman's blood pressure rose slightly, as did the temperature in his face. He had a bad temper, but he controlled it. His associates were watching their leader closely. Their muscle tension was high: in Mirina's case, almost dangerously so. The former brawn was under a lot of stress.

  "The Melange has made a lot of progress with them," Bisman said, with emphasis. "We don't like someone just walking in and benefiting from all our work."

  "But when there's profit in it . . . ?" Carialle asked.

  "Yeah, but we intend to keep it just the way it's been," Bisman said. His blood pressure drew down to normal again. He was on his own ground here, Carialle thought.

  "The resources on this planet are very attractive, n'est ce pas? For example, fuel of very high quality."

  "Ours. Our refinery, our investment," Bisman said, flatly.

  Carialle spread her hands prettily. "But can't we make a bargain?" she asked. "We might like to buy some of this fine fuel. And these people, the Thelerie, are good customers."

  "Not a chance," Bisman said. "There's not enough production to supply all of us. The Thelerie need it to run their lamps and heating units. I've got more than sixty ships. How many have you got?"

  "Enough," Carialle said. "You'll forgive me not giving out too much information until I know who I'm dealing with."

  "We've been around a long time," the older man said, narrowing his eyes at her. He jabbed a finger toward Keff. "I have never heard of you people until we landed and found him here. You come out of nowhere, into established territory, and you act like you've had a mandate from the Invisible Hosts."

  Carialle smiled austerely. "Perhaps it does seem as if we've been keeping undercover a little too much."

  "Nonexistent, is what I call it." Bisman's voice rose threateningly. Carialle picked up signs of distress from Thunderstorm, who watched the man with wide eyes. He was terrified of Bisman, and Carialle couldn't blame him. He was dangerous.

  "And yet, here we are," Carialle said. Her sensors picked up the expected ship orbiting and entering atmosphere. The engine vibration matched patrol ships she'd encountered at many space stations. She listened for an official hail, hoping it was the CW military ship at last. It was curious that there hadn't been any advance instructions for her. She strained her external cameras upward and outward, searching for a glimpse of the descending craft. "Now that we've found one another, we should make arrangements for cooperation where our paths cross."

  "Keff!" she said, urgently, while her blandfaced hologram continued a meaningless conversation with the pirate leader. "It's Ship Three! They're coming in for a landing. Here!"

  "What? Impossible!" Keff muttered to himself, although he was badly shaken. "No, it isn't. The Thelerie are natural navigators. They've Centered their way home."

  "But with what? We destroyed their propulsion system."

  "We never found the DSC-902's," Keff said glumly. He smiled innocently at Mirina, who was staring at him with open curiosity.

  Carialle tried to get the others' attention focused back on herself. "Mr. Bisman, the Circuit is prepared to sell you whatever components and parts you might like, at a good price, but we do believe in coexistence."

  "Just a minute," Bisman said, holding up a hand as his pocket unit signalled. He listened to the small speaker. "What?"

  Carialle picked up the transmission herself. She listened helplessly to every word the pirate leader heard. She relayed the broadcast so Keff could hear it, too. His eyes widened, and flicked toward her hiding place.

  "They saw them on long-range but now they're sure. Autumn says that Keff's ship is the one who attacked them in Slime space," a woman's voice repeated. "Says the human onboard was under Slime control."

  "What? Slime? What about the other ship?"

  "No one challenged her on the way in. There's nobody in orbit around Thelerie!"

  "What? Well, then where's the transmission in here coming from?" Bisman demanded.

  "The ship . . ." Carialle could wait to hear no more. She blocked the signal from the pirate.

  Bisman jumped for Keff, and backed him up against the nearest bulkhead with a forearm underneath his throat.

  "Who is she?" Bisman demanded. "Where is she?"

  "There's no one else here," Keff said, innocently, pushing the man's arm down enough to gasp in a breath. His windpipe felt half-crushed. "Just me. The Lady's out in space somewhere."

  "That's a lie," the pirate leader said, driving home his statement with another bruising push. "One of my ships says there's nobody out there. She's onboard this vessel. Bring her out!"

  "You're wrong, friend . . ." Keff began, but he got no more out. The pirate shoved him up against the enameled panel and bore down in earnest. "Hey!" he whispered, battering the man on the back. He saw black spots dance in his vision. Bisman meant to kill him. Dropping all pretense of amiable obsequity, Keff dug both thumbs into pressure points behind the man's ears, and swept a foot back and across Bisman's ankles, sending the older man stumbling. Keff danced out from the wall on the balls of his feet, not turning his back on Bisman. In the close quarters, though, he was at a disadvantage. The pirate, though an older man, had a long reach, and undoubtedly a long, dishonorable history of dirty fighting. He landed a kidney punch before Keff could get by him. Keff staggered, and aimed a slam of his own for the man's gut. Bisman took about half of it, but he slid sideways in the direction of the airlock. Keff closed the distance, and had to dodge back from a dirty kick. He couldn't let Bisman go, not now.

  "They'll have backups in a minute," Carialle said. "The rest of the crew is coming. They're armed, and something on that ship is building up energy." Keff nodded but didn't reply. He was concentrating on disabling Bisman without killing him. Mirina and her brother stood beside the table, staring.

  "He's CW?" Zonzalo asked, gaping.

  "You lied!" Mirina shouted at Keff. She started toward the airlock, but the combatants blocked her way.

  "Luring us in here, pretending to be stupid traders," Bisman panted. He evaded a roundhouse kick Keff aimed at him, grabbed Keff's leg, and propelled him backward over the stack of crates toward the image of the third console. Keff fell helplessly among the boxes. The other humans gasped as he disappeared from view into the holographic illusion. Bisman, with a snarl, dove in after him.

  "Cari, I can't see!" Keff cried, as a punch came out of nowhere and knocked his head painfully against the deck.

  The time for subterfuge was over. Keff's life could be in danger. At once, Carialle dropped the illusion, revealing wall,
pillar, and the two men grappling on the floor. The effect on Mirina Don was electric. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.

  "Aldon!" she shrieked at the top of her voice. "She's a brainship!"

  "Central Worlds!" Bisman growled. With a sudden burst of strength, he yanked a hand free, chopped the smaller man in the throat, and scrambled to his feet. He spun and grabbed Thunderstorm, who had been trying to creep unobtrusively toward the airlock.

  "You damned traitor," the pirate snarled. "You were in on this." He yanked the Thelerie back on his haunches and drew his sidearm, shoving it under Thunderstorm's throat.

  "Help them," Carialle said to Tall Eyebrow and the listening Cridi, activating the door of the spare cabin. "Now!"

  Like a barrage of soap-bubbles, the Cridi poured out of the spare room, and surrounded the pirates.

  "Slime!" Zonzalo gasped, flattening himself against the wall as Gap Tooth and Small Spot confronted him. Sunset, the young Thelerie clutched Mirina around the waist, and hid behind her, his golden eyes all pupil, while Big Voice, Wide Foot, and Big Eyes edged them backward.

  "Stand back," Bisman said, looking up steadily at the floating globes. "I want out of here, now! I want my people out, too. One by one. If we don't, this damned traitor dies. Now!"

  "We freeze him!" Small Spot cried, flinging himself forward to save his friend.

  "No!" Carialle saw the tiny movement of Bisman's finger closing just as Small Spot's whammy took effect. She sensed the power buildup, an inexorable burst only temporarily halted.

  "Small motor control reaction," she said, over all her speakers. The hologram of the Lady vanished, making the human pirates jump. "He's pulled the trigger. If we don't let him go, the gun will fire anyhow in a moment. If we don't try to contain the blast using Core power, it will explode right here in the cabin. If we do, both Bisman and Thunderstorm will die. Sooner or later I will run out of fuel, then the Core won't be able to contain the blast to just the two of them."